


Fit To Be

by inlovewithnight



Category: Brothers & Sisters
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-05
Updated: 2010-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for a Porn Battle prompt of "collar" and Kink Bingo square "body part fetishes (other)."</p>
    </blockquote>





	Fit To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Porn Battle prompt of "collar" and Kink Bingo square "body part fetishes (other)."

They have four events in a day, from San Diego to Redding, and Kevin is seriously considering killing the campaign manager who set this up. And the scheduler. And Robert, just to be as thorough as possible.

"Why couldn't you be running for governor of Rhode Island?" he asks, slouching lower in his chair. "You could walk between events there. Or you would only have to have one, and everybody would be there."

They're sitting in an RV outside the last event of the day, a _motor home_, for God's sake, this is what the field staff is coming up with. Kevin would have them all fired, or possibly beheaded, but Robert seems to be enjoying it. It plays into his whole "man of the people" delusion.

"I don't live in Rhode Island," Robert informs him, pulling a clean shirt from his garment bag.

"Not that one," Kevin says immediately. "And you could _move_ there. That would help me out a lot, actually."

"You'd be out of a job. I don't see how that would help anything, including Scotty's stress level." Robert frowns at the shirt. "What's wrong with this one?"

"It clashes with the pinstripe in your suit. And I could get another job."

"Yeah, law firms are on a real hiring spree in this economy."

"Whose party's fault is that, again?"

"Bite me." Robert shoves the shirt back into the bag and takes out another one. "What about this?"

Kevin looks at it. "It's plain white. Plain white is always fine. Are you having some kind of early onset of senile dementia?"

"You're in a mood today." Robert turns to the mirror and starts loosening his tie. "You have to change, too, you know."

"Why?"

"Because you end up in the background of most of the pictures, and you need to be looking fresh as a daisy."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't describe me in ways that remind me of feminine hygiene products."

"You're so weird." Robert pulls yet another shirt from the bag--it's like he's Mary Poppins, or something--and holds it out to him. "Change your shirt."

Kevin huffs with annoyance, but stands up and takes the shirt. "This is my size."

"Well, yes."

"You planned ahead to bring me a change of clothes."

Robert gives him an exasperated look and starts unbuttoning his own shirt. "What can I say? I was a Boy Scout. Hurry up and change, Kevin."

Kevin sighs and does as he's told, and when exactly did _that_ become his life, doing what Robert McCallister tells him? He's due for a massive amount of self-evaluation. And possibly therapy.

He's doing up the last button when he feels a touch at the back of his neck, a finger tracing feather-light along the edge of his collar. "You need a haircut," Robert says, his voice different from what Kevin knows how to deal with. Softer, almost.

"I know," he replies, not quite shying away from the touch, trying to focus on the button between his fingers. "Can't seem to get away from work long enough to get it done."

"Your boss sounds like a real prick." Robert's hand slides along the sharp-pressed curve of the fabric, around the side Kevin's neck to his throat.

"You have no idea," Kevin mutters, his voice suddenly gone hoarse. Robert's fingertips are hovering over his pulse now, just at the soft part of his throat, an unexpected point of heat.

Robert traces the curve of the collar again, back to the tendon that leads to his shoulder and then forward again, dipping down and catching one finger at the top button, curving it down inside and tugging Kevin forward. And Kevin goes, because what else is he supposed to do? Robert's not asking so much as telling, and the delicate slide of Robert's skin over his throat has scrambled everything in his head like electricity.

Robert just _holds_ him there, for a minute, looking at him without making another move or saying a word. Kevin's not sure if he wants to say _go to hell_ or _please_, but he doesn't pull away, and from the way Robert starts to smile a little, that was what he was looking for.

"You need another tie, too," Robert says. "I'll trade you mine."

"Won't that show up in the pictures?" Kevin asks. The worst of the spell was broken when Robert spoke, but his tongue is clumsy and his skin is suddenly too hot.

Robert's still smiling as he flips Kevin's collar up and slides the length of silk into place, smoothes the cotton and starts drawing together the knot. "Nobody looks at the pictures, Kevin." He slides the perfect half-Windsor home to the base of Kevin's throat, and Kevin swallows convulsively. "And it looks good on you."


End file.
